The National Anthem
Swen Nater

I don’t do this very often, but, when watching the July 4th fireworks last night, I was compelled to present this addendum to yesterday’s blog posting—a story which, I hope, will aid in explaining the purity of teamwork Coach Wooden tried to create in his team by transforming every one of us into one that was eager to discard self glory or attention. It is a humbling story because it’s about me and how I failed to live up to his standard. The setting of the story is on the basketball floor at Pauley Pavilion, but I was not playing basketball; I was singing the national anthem before a UCLA basketball game. It happened about six years ago.

A few weeks before the game, when I learned I was going to sing, I commenced practicing. Influenced by some great performances of the past, one by Whitney Houston I will never forget, I composed a presentation that was designed for an ovation. I wanted those fans and students to know, this old basketball player could do more than play basketball; he could sing. My rendition had everything necessary to open the mouths of the audience and to, after the game, feel the urge to come up to me with congratulations. I moved notes around, swerved away from the traditional melody, and produced a couple of runs that I thought Boys 2 Men would appreciate. 

Coach Wooden was well-aware that I was going to sing and he was at the game. In fact, I was his guest, sitting next to him. When the announcer said, “Our national anthem will be sung by one of UCLA’s basketball players, Swen Nater,” I raised up from my seat to go out on the floor. Coach grabbed me by the arm and said, “Swen, don’t get fancy.” (How did he know?) It was too late. I sang it the way I rehearsed it and received my strokes from the crowd. Then I returned to my seat next to Coach.

He never said anything. He didn’t have to. My guilt was so strong, I clenched my teeth and shook my head slowly in remorse, knowing I had done it all wrong. Although many came by to thank me for singing, it made no difference. They didn’t “get it.” I “got it” (too late) and Coach “had it.” The National Anthem was a song where America was to be featured, not the singer. 

Oh, to be able to do it again! I would use my voice to call people back to that chilly early morning in September of 1814. I would sing to have them sense the worried anticipation that Skinner, Beanes, and Key felt when darkness was about to surrender to the dawn and they had no idea whether they would see the British or American flag flying above the fort. I would send a flood of butterflies to everyone’s stomach when I sing the words, “…gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.” I would finish with a crescendo that would not draw attention to the tenor in my voice, but rather, that they would gloat with pride that they were citizens of “…the land of the free and the home of the brave.” Oh, to be able to go back and sing that song of all songs and give America the glory.

It was this spirit that Coach Wooden wanted to install in each one of his players. He wanted us to lose ourselves in the beauty of Pure Teamwork so that attention was drawn, not to the person, but to the collective product. I hope the story helped you understand. It certainly has helped me.

Swen